Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

The sun was peak high and indifferent in a cloudless sky on the day the combined host finally crossed the border, treading upon the soil of Yarzat proper.

For the Prince of Habadia, the moment was a triumph. It had taken years of delicate posturing, honeyed threats, and exhausting diplomacy to forge this league.

To see four princes, men who usually shared nothing but mutual distrust, riding together was a sight the world had not witnessed in a century.

Nibadur thought of it a bit like a warm up. He meant for this congregation to last even after the war, of course provided his skills were apt for the task.

It wasn’t an easy job, but neither was it impossible, he held enough cards to make it work.

Behind him the strength of such a work spread out for the horizon was swallowed by a sea of banners and a line of men that seemed eternal. Twelve thousand souls. All for one man.

It was a staggering number, a weight of steel that should have crushed anything in its path.

Yet, as he sat atop his destrier, and looked behind he could see his host spreading on the road like some enormous worm, which was fitting as it also moved like one, a hint of doubt crept up.

Twelve kilometers a day was considered a success, but to his mind , it felt like wading through knee-deep mud.

The supply train was the heart of his frustration. Six hundred carts creaked and groaned in the dust behind the main force, and even that mountain of grain and salted meat would barely keep the men fed for eleven days.

Had he not prepared for such an invasion by making Kakunia stockpile for two years, he wouldn’t have been able to keep the force up for even a month.

Farther back detached by the main army, another six hundred wagons would be making the slow, agonizing trek from Ricorum, crossing the river to Pardum, and finally shunting supplies to Nerdum. (for reference go to comments).

He had mapped the route with obsessive care, ensuring the food moved through a corridor of fortified holds, safe from the ”bandits” that had recently begun to plague the Oizenian countryside like a sudden fever.

It of course needed time to be built, but it was far better to have something prepared and not need it ,than the opposite.

Only a fool would make it so as to leave any hole through which the Fox could salvage anything that wasn’t a complete loss.

Wouldn’t that be the jest of the century?A host of twelve thousand failing against three or four, because they got hungry?

He knew that if he were in Alpheo’s place he would skip the battle and strike at the throat. He would starve the League, since that was the only strategy he could employ.

The ’Fox’ is likely watching those wagons right now, he muttered to himself, squinting against the glare of the sun.

He had no doubt that the sudden surge in banditry in the Crownless Prince’s lands bore the hidden sigil of Yarzat. It wouldn’t surprise him if half those ”brigands” were actually Alpheo’s regular soldiers dressed in rags.

As clever as it may be, it could only work against unprepared men and the Habadian was not one.

He had stripped a thousand footmen from the vanguard specifically to guard the supply runs.

He felt a smug sense of security, as if he had just taken the cheese off a mouse’s mouth.

To truly threaten his supply line, an enemy would need a force far larger than a few raiding parties. He would need to move an entire division host into Oizenian territory, a feat that was logistically impossible. They would then have to bypass a dozen castles that would see them coming from miles away announcing their arrival to the league army fasther than the Yarzats could move, and they would run out of food before they even reached the first wagon.

In fact, he almost found himself hoping the Fox would try it.

If Alpheo committed a large force to a deep-strike ambush, the Prince would simply snap the trap shut. He would divide his twelve thousand, block the mountain passes and the roads forcing the Fox to ditch his supply train and march with some day’s worth of food, and then....slowly squeeze the Yarzat army until they were eating their own horses. Only then they would strike and decapitate the army and force the Fox to submission.

To the Prince of Habadia, the conclusion was inevitable: there was simply nothing Yarzat could do to halt a machine of this size. The ”Fox” was trapped in a cage of his own making, surrounded by the overwhelming weight of four crowns.

And of course such a thing did not pass unnoticed by the others,easing battered minds like soldiers after a night of debauchery.

”My wife wants a nice red scarf,

A nice red scarf, A nice red scarf.

My daughter wants nice red gloves,

Nice red gloves, Nice red gloves.

Set the hounds out in the fog,

Out in the fog, Out in the fog.

Set the traps right in tow,

Right in tow, Right in tow.

For now we go hunting fox, With a huzzah and a knock!

What sadness! What loss!

It will be for my wife and daughter if I come home with naught.

So out for foxes now we go,

With a stomp and a blow!

He can run to the hills,

he can hide in the rocks,

But the hounds are all hungry to tear at the Fox!

We’ll skin him for silver, we’ll pluck out his eyes,

And toast to the day that the clever beast dies!”

Nibadur turned toward the disharmonious voice that grated against his ears, watching his brother-in-law, the Prince of Ezvania, sang with a flamboyant, coquettish tilt to his head.

Their ”generous host,” the Crownless Prince of Oizen, was riding alongside him,along with both retinues nodding and smiling with a desperate, eager energy as he humored every one of the Ezvanian’s antics.

Further back in the column,a young man with a horned helmet, and a grey surcoat donned of a bull in black watched the performance with a visible sneer. Nibadur noticed the boy’s tongue flick against his teeth, as if he were holding back a stinging retort. That, at least, was someone Nibadur felt he could work with.

The boy might have been of bastard blood, but he possessed a sounder mind than the singing jester from Ezvania or the groveling prince of Oizen.

To the Habadian the boy’s lineage was a minor detail. Who cared about the purity of blood when the lad held the key to uniting the heart of the South? His father loved him and wanted him to inherit the crown, what business was it if his mother was a tanner.

If Nibadur could tether Kakunia to Habadia through marriage and treaty, he would create a power block that no one, not even the Romelian Emperor before the civil war could easily walk upon...

He has nice eyes and proper etiquette, Nibadur thought. A bit of training, a bit of Habadian gold, and he’ll be the perfect son-in-law.

He gestured for the boy with his hand, something Latio only noticed when he turned his eyes away from the two carousing princes. With a sharp kick to his mount’s flanks, the young bull of Kakunia hurried his horse forward until he was riding stirrup-to-stirrup with the master of Habadia.

”Your Grace?” Latio asked as he drew level, his voice steady despite the rhythmic thumping of the horses’ gait.

”Undignified, isn’t it?”

Latio didn’t even need to follow the subtle nudge of the older man’s head to know what he was referring to. Up ahead, the Ezvanian was still laughing at some bawdy joke, while Sorza, practically tripped over his own tongue to agree.

”I wouldn’t presume to judge a prince of the realm,it is not my place. ” Latio replied. He kept his face like a mask of carved stone, but his eyes betrayed him, flashing with a cold, deep-seated distaste for the spectacle.

”Well, I am a prince,” Nibadur said, a thin, mirthless smile touching his lips, ”so I suppose I have the standing to judge them. And I judge them to be fools.

They are taking this to be a pleasant summer stroll through the countryside. Were they at the head of this army they’d be able to make a debacle that would shame a jester.”

Nibadur breathed deeply through his nose, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if he could see some trap Alpheo was laying. ”Are you of the same mind? Do you see a parade, or do you see a war?”

”While I have little doubt that our numbers make the final outcome certain,” Latio said, choosing his words with a precision that made Nibadur’s eyes sparkle with approval, ”I do feel compelled to say that the more we underestimate the Prince Consort of Yarzat, the bloodier our noses will be when the first blow lands.

Provided we give Yarzat even a hairline fracture of a chance to act, they will take it, and they will drive a wedge through it until we are all bleeding in the dirt.It is bad to understimate the man.He has a sound mind for war and he is idolised by his own men. I have heard of his battles and it would be foolish of us to disregard them.”

Nibadur looked at the young bull, his expression warming into something resembling genuine respect. ”Exactly my opinion. It is a rare thing to find a head as young as yours that isn’t filled with the steam of vanity.My eldest son ought to take a lesson from you”

”Look at them. ’’ He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a whisper.Nudging his chin to the two princes ’’One is a peacock who thinks a war is won with the loudest song, and the other is a beggar so desperate for his throne that he’d kiss the boots of the men who are essentially conquering his land for him.Fools...”

Nibadur reached out, patting the pommel of his saddle. ”Once we have dealt with the Fox we will have time to settle our own affairs. I have not forgotten the slights your own house has suffered.

Once Yarzat is broken, we shall make a very personal visit to your cousin and make sure the other lord swear loyalty to the heir of Kakunia.Then we will ensure that the South is ruled by men with spines, with a common objective in sight. If looking at the army behind is not reason enough to see the strength of princes joining hands, than what is?”

He looked Latio up and down, as if measuring him for a wedding cloak. ”Would you like for me to share a secret?’’

After the young Kakunian nodded, Nibadur smiled with approval.

’’Together, our houses will be the foundation upon which a new order is built, that I can tell you now and more after. Provided you will follow me, you shall rise far more than you could ever even imagine.

I believe the South ought to be straightened a bit and it would soar like a mighty tree, wouldn’t you say?’’